


Flashing Back

by SwiftEmera



Series: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge (Vigilante Edition) [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/pseuds/SwiftEmera
Summary: On the cold nights in Nanda Parbat, Oliver still thinks about Barry.





	Flashing Back

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I am so, so, so sorry for the amount of time it took me to update this series but HEY LOOK I'M ALIVE AND I'M BACK TO KILL YOU ALL WITH FEELS. Uni is over now so I actually have the time to catch up on writing! I PROMISE THE NEXT UPDATE WON'T BE AS LONG OF A WAIT. 
> 
> 2) Happy Olivarry Week!
> 
> 3) This fic is no longer following the OTP porn challenge, for the sake of keeping the flow of the story. I'm probably going to rename it to Vigilantes With Benefits as I have it named on ff.net. I'll still be taking some of the prompts from it though - for example, this one is from Day 12 (First time they have sex) AND Day 17 (Masturbation). 
> 
> 3) Thank you to my wonderful beta [Medha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis2012), who reads smut on public transport for kicks, for looking over this for me <3 You're the best.

He remembers the first time like it was yesterday.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even something that Oliver had thought about before that night.

Granted, he had barely known the younger man for a few days at that point. Barry’s stay in Starling City was brief and Oliver spent the entirety of the time irritated by his over-optimistic attitude and… well, let’s just say that the fact that Felicity clearly took interest in the newcomer hadn’t helped much.

Oliver still doesn’t know when his interest switched from Felicity to Barry, but then again, stranger things have happened.

He has to wonder what Barry’s doing now. Oliver’s certain that the speedster has probably heard about his venture to Nanda Parbat.

He doesn’t regret it. He’s doing this for Thea. His sister will always be his priority. As far as regrets go, there’s only one detail.

He should have told Barry that he loves him.

Oliver’s been serving his time in the league for weeks now – and if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s not entirely sure that he’s going to make it back alive. Even if he does, considering the lives that they live, there’s no guarantee that Barry will still be there.

_In this life, you can’t afford attachments._

His own words still ring true until this day. The problem is; attachments aren’t things that you can pick and choose for yourself. They just _happen_ to you when you’re not looking – no matter how high and impenetrable you think your guard is.

Barry managed to worm his way through Oliver’s defences with little effort, and Oliver hadn’t even noticed the moment his barriers had started to shift and crumble for the speedster. There was nothing he could do to stop it, and there’s not much he can do to tamper it at this point.

Because he’s tried. Oh, god, has he tried.

The nights are long in Nanda Parbat, and Oliver’s been experiencing nightmares again. The island – Sara calling for him – Shado being murdered in cold blood right in front of him – and then _Slade_. All ever-present in his mind.

So instead of sleeping, he lies awake in his bed, letting his mind run rampant.

It’s the same old routine, day in and day out. His mind wanders with concern for his loved ones – the ones who he left behind. The ones who probably think that he’s dead by this point. He almost wishes that they do. It’ll be easier that way.

Thea is first and foremost on his mind, always. His sister. His rock. He wonders if she’s okay – hopes that Laurel’s keeping the younger Queen sibling out of trouble. Oliver has every faith in her.

Laurel. His first love. Another person Oliver couldn’t stop hurting. Laurel deserves better. She deserves to be happy – to have someone who will love her wholly, and never stray. She and Tommy had been good for one another. He hopes that she’ll find that again someday.

Sara. He’d loved her too. It had started as a fling – certainly before the island – but there are just some things you can’t go through together without becoming closer. Lian Yu was one of those things for them.

Sometimes he catches Nyssa sitting alone out on the rocks, looking up at the stars as though she’s searching for something. He finds himself wondering if the heiress will go against her father’s wishes and just go to her beloved already. They could be happy together. They could have what Oliver can’t.

Diggle. His best friend. Loyal to a fault. Oliver has no doubt that the man’s likely stepping up in his absence. All Oliver can do is hope that he won’t get reckless. That he and Felicity will band together. They always did work well together.

Felicity. She might not be who his heart yearns for anymore, but her importance to Oliver hasn’t wavered. They, too, had gone through far too much together to grow apart. Instead, a different kind of love had formed in place of the old kind. Platonic, yet just as strong.  The blonde can take care of herself, he knows. Still, hopefully Felicity has found a home amongst Team Arrow. She’d needed it.

But no matter what, it always goes back to Barry.

Gorgeous, beautiful Barry. Loving and trusting. Always there when Oliver needs him. Always forgiving Oliver for breaking his heart time and time again. He’s taken advantage. He knows that. Maybe, with him gone, Barry will finally be able to move on. Oliver won’t, but that doesn’t really matter anymore.

He lets out a breath, eyes fanning across his cheeks as he gives up on yet another night’s sleep, and instead, he lets his mind consume him fully.

He thinks of Barry that first night – the way that he’d basically been tripping over himself to earn Oliver’s approval. He’d been so eager back then. Adorable, his traitorous mind had provided at the time.

It had been a good way to deal with his feelings for Felicity – and Barry for Iris. And by deal, of course, he really means _ignore_. Instead of spending a night thinking about what could be if he’d let it, it let them drown out the heartache and yearning. That was, of course, until the heartache and yearning became more about each other than anything else.

They’d had a little much to drink that night – back when Barry _could_ get drunk. He’d spent the night crushed up next to Oliver in their usual booth at Verdant, and Oliver still remembers the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his job – and the way that his smiles and banter seemed to turn more flirtatious as the night wore on.

Fuck, that smile. That’s what had started it. There had been an edge to it – something playful, yet suggestive. Something that made Oliver want to drag Barry to the nearest toilet stall and explore everything that Barry had to offer.

They didn’t do that. Instead, they’d ended up in the basement. Barry already knew what was down there – there was no harm in making use of the convenience, he’d figured.  

Training mats, they discovered, could be used for far more than fighting.

Like pressing Barry down on one, for example – their lips crushed together desperately, Barry tugging at his clothes piece by piece until they were both stripped down to their underwear, rutting together through the thin pieces of fabric, breaths haggard.

Oliver drew back – took in the view in front of him.

 _Fuck_.

It’s still easy to remember the sight of Barry sprawled on the mat, cheeks flushed, looking back at Oliver with blown pupils. It had been almost unfair how much the sight had hardened his cock. How Oliver managed to compose himself so well, he’ll never know.

In the present, Oliver’s hand snakes down his chest – his tongue rolling over his lips. It’s hardly the first time he’s done this here, and he knows that it won’t be the last. Because despite R’as’ insistence, Oliver is still human. He has needs.

His hand curls around his cock, and he lets out a trembled breath, his mind going back to that first time as he begins to move in slow, measured strokes.

He thinks of the way that Barry had bit down on his lower lip, as though he was still unsure of himself. As though he thought that Oliver might kick him out at any moment. As if Oliver had anywhere near that kind of self-restraint.

If Oliver is completely honest with himself now, he has to wonder if that had been the moment he fell in love with Barry Allen.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Oliver husked out.

“Not so bad yourself,” Barry had quipped in return.

Cocky. A side to Barry that, up until then, Oliver was largely unaware of – but it was definitely a side he wanted to see more of.

It didn’t take Oliver long to strip them both of their underwear after that – thrown haphazardly into the growing pile of clothes somewhere behind them – Oliver hadn’t cared enough to check where. They soon got into a steady rhythm – twin breaths trembling in the air as Oliver clenched onto Barry’s hands, pressing them down onto the mat, their hardened cocks creating friction against one another.

It was both too much and not enough all at once.

“Wait,” Oliver breathed out, the idea striking him. Of course, he’d immediately regretted it the moment that Barry’s expression faltered – brows furrowing.

“Do you want to stop?”

His voice was quiet, and Oliver’s heart shattered almost instantaneously. That should have been his first red flag.

“No!” Oliver was fast enough to assure him. “Fuck, no, I just-“

For what was probably the first time in his life, words were failing him – so, he made up for it in action. “Just trust me, okay?”

“I do.”

It sounded almost reverent – raw and honest. The words hit him deeper than they probably should have. Even now, the thought of it still makes Oliver feel far warmer inside than it has any right to.

He didn’t waste any more time, flipping their positions so that his back was flat on the mat, Barry letting out an almost inhuman squeak as he suddenly found himself straddling Oliver. It would have been comical, if he hadn’t been so damn turned on.

Tongue running over his lips, he waited until Barry had settled into his position, before moving his hands to shift Barry forward a little, trembled breath escaping him as he took in the view – Barry’s entire body flushed, short breaths falling from his lips as he waited for Oliver to make his move.

He remembers finding it captivating. _Beautiful_.

That should’ve been his second red flag.

Swallowing thickly, he took their cocks into his hand in a firm grip, the friction making the muscles in his stomach contract. Barry’s breath stuttered, head rolling back as a groan escaped the back of his throat, hips shifting almost automatically.

_“Ollie.”_

It had been the first time that Barry had used the nickname, and Oliver found himself hoping at the time that it wouldn’t be the last.

In the present, Oliver’s breath catches – his own hips shifting into the motion. Thank fuck for the fact that people at least seemed respectful of his privacy around here. Not that he’d even notice if anyone was watching, his mind far too preoccupied with thoughts of the way that Barry gasped and groaned and bit down on his lips in a desperate attempt to contain himself.

He’d always been so damn vocal. Barry will never know how sexy that is.

It hadn’t been long before the heat had started to build – slowly at first, until a sudden rush of heat had flared through his system. Above him, Barry looked just as unravelled as he was – breathless, red raw, dishevelled – _falling apart_ – and fuck if that didn’t send him crashing over.

Oliver came first, spilling over their hands and his own stomach as his chest burned with pleasure, a low growl falling from him as his head hit the mat, his body bone-heavy.

Part of him regrets not finishing Barry off himself – not that it had taken him long. It was almost like the younger man had been barely holding himself together, waiting for Oliver to come before he fell apart in his wake, a whimper crawling up from the back of his throat that Oliver wanted to bottle up and keep for himself.

_Red flag number three._

In the present, Oliver’s breath steadies, his hand and stomach just as messy as it had been back then.

He should probably feel some form of regret – or at least shame, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. It’s all he has left of Barry, and he’s clinging to it for dear life.

And, fuck, if he’s never going to see Barry again, the least he can do is just bask in the memory for a little while longer.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. You can find me on tumblr at [thescarletspeedstress](http://thescarletspeedstress.tumblr.com).


End file.
